


One More Folded Sunset

by the_rck



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Amnesia, Background Crawford/Manx, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 15:44:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12391173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_rck/pseuds/the_rck
Summary: //Brad, where the fuck are we?//Once he was sure he had a connection to Brad’s mind, he opened his eyes. He felt safer that way.//Schuldig? I wasn’t— No. That’s not true.//Brad sounded uncertain, fragmented even, in a way that scared Schuldig even more than the odd landscape and his inability to stop walking.//The hill doesn’t look that big, but it will probably take you another half an hour to get here. Things… stretch. Sort of. You’re being watched. She can’t hear when we talk like this, but she’s watching, and she’ll hear if you speak out loud. I’d come to meet you, but… I can’t. I’ll explain when you get here.//Schuldig knew Brad well enough to know when he was lying.You’re not going to explain anything. Well, we’ve been there before. I’ll get it one way or another.He rubbed his face with one hand.Why don’t I remember anything to explain this?





	One More Folded Sunset

**Author's Note:**

  * For [indelicateink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indelicateink/gifts).



> Thanks to mari4212 for beta reading.
> 
> Title from "Questions of Travel," a poem by Elizabeth Bishop.

Schuldig couldn’t figure out what the hell he was doing. Oh, part of it was obvious. He was following a path up a steep hill that, in certain fairly flat parts of the world, might be labeled a mountain. What he couldn’t figure out was why and how he’d gotten there. All of that was disturbingly blank. It didn’t help that he was barefoot and cold and that the sky was a vivid shade of red shot through with yellow and blue things that he thought might be clouds. Everything around him was dry, but he smelled swamp.

There were sounds that might be frogs or insects or— _Anything at all, really._ The skin on his back crawled, and he couldn’t quite convince himself that it was the cold.

There were stones underfoot, sharp ones, but no signs of plants or roots intruding on the path. _Which is a relief. I don’t like the looks of those—_ The— for want of a better word, he called it grass --rippled and looked like it was crawling along beside him. There were taller plants with what might have been flowers that turned to track his passage.

He tried to stop and turn around. When he found that he couldn’t do that, he started to panic. His feet kept going. He tried to focus his mind, but he felt like, to do that, he needed to close off from what he was seeing. _And hearing and smelling and feeling…_

_Not knowing is a bigger risk._ He let his feet carry him forward and shut his eyes so that he could reach out with his mind. He ventured forth cautiously because he was concerned that there might be minds out there that could hurt him. _Either telepaths or simply so alien that I can’t bear them._ But he found nothing with what he recognized as a mind nearby. He reached farther and brushed against a mind he knew very well.

_//Brad, where the fuck are we?//_ Once he was sure he had a connection to Brad’s mind, he opened his eyes. He felt safer that way.

_//Schuldig? I wasn’t— No. That’s not true.//_ Brad sounded uncertain, fragmented even, in a way that scared Schuldig even more than the odd landscape and his inability to stop walking. _//The hill doesn’t look that big, but it will probably take you another half an hour to get here. Things… stretch. Sort of. You’re being watched. She can’t hear when we talk like this, but she’s watching, and she’ll hear if you speak out loud. I’d come to meet you, but… I can’t. I’ll explain when you get here.//_

Schuldig knew Brad well enough to know when he was lying. _You’re not going to explain anything. Well, we’ve been there before. I’ll get it one way or another._ He rubbed his face with one hand. _Why don’t I remember anything to explain this?_

He heard a sound behind him and tried to turn to look back. His body refused to move that way, and the panic he’d been holding back altered his breathing and made him shake. He expected his knees to give way, but his legs remained solid and kept moving him forward.

"Don’t speak. She can’t hear me or see me, but if you answer me, she’ll know something’s wrong." The voice was feminine, and the words were Japanese. 

Schuldig had the feeling he should recognize the voice, but he couldn’t place it. He reached out with his mind and found nothing at all. So far as his gift was concerned, there weren’t any minds nearer than Brad’s.

"You won’t find me, Schuldig-san, and you won’t remember me from before. That’s apparently my gift." The woman twisted the word 'gift' in a way that was familiar to Schuldig from the many people he’d known who regretted what came with their powers. "Crawford remembers me because we’re… friends now. As much as we can be. I don’t care if you remember me as long as you remember what I’m going to tell you."

Schuldig swallowed hard. He didn’t like the way she said 'Crawford' or her hesitation in labeling what was between them as friendship. He tried to look back again and found that he still couldn’t.

"I’m worried about Crawford. He’s… Well, things are bad for you, but you… forget. He doesn’t, and we’ve all been here a long time. I think…" She fell silent for long enough that Schuldig started to wonder if she had vanished. "No, I’m sure. His mind is starting to break down. I don’t know if you can help him— with your powers, I mean. Seeing you always helps. A little. I also don’t know what she will do if he falls apart. She doesn’t pay very much attention to him."

Schuldig really, really didn’t like the general shape that was starting to form in his mind. _Well, I knew there couldn’t be anything good about all of this._ A shudder ran through him, and he was sure the woman behind him must have seen it. He wanted very badly to speak to her. _But she and Brad both warned me not to speak. If only I could find her mind!_

The woman sighed. "Yes, Schuldig-san, it’s very, very bad. Crawford thinks we still have a chance. Maybe. But I’m the only one who can move freely, and I’ve only got a few bullets and Abyssinian’s katana." She was silent for a while. "I did try shooting you, both of you, at one point. I made sure you were dead. It didn’t matter because she decided you weren’t. And now she knows there’s someone out here, someone she can’t see, someone with a gun. I don’t know if she remembers. She might not. It’s been… Well, it’s been a while. And she doesn’t focus on anything for very long."

_And she, whoever— whatever— she is, apparently can’t be stopped by bullets._ Schuldig shuddered again. _And my powers must not help me, either._

“I don't entirely understand your powers, but-- Don't let him keep you out. He'll certainly try because he won't want you to know what comes next or that he's almost done in.” She was silent for a few seconds. Schuldig only knew she was still there because he could hear her breathing. “There's also… Can you help him chase visions? I can't, and no one else comes out this way. She won't let them. She keeps Weiss on a very tight leash, and the other, the Fujimiya girl, is still asleep.” She sighed. “If it's any comfort, Naoe got himself and Farfarello out while the rest of us were getting sucked in. It would have done us more good if he'd gotten Crawford out because he'd have had some idea where to start looking for us. He loves you enough not to give up.”

Schuldig thought the woman sounded more than a little wistful. _Does she love him? Does he love her? He sounded glad to hear me. That wasn't fake._ Schuldig knew people well enough to know that this woman must matter to Brad. _Even if he didn’t want her to, she’s the one he sees the most._ He exhaled a little more forcefully than he normally would and wondered if the woman would notice. _I can cope. I can cope with anything. Anything. And, maybe if I repeat that enough, it’ll be true._

After a few seconds, Schuldig felt a hand touch his shoulder lightly. “Please, help him.” Then the touch was gone, and she didn’t say anything else. Schuldig suspected that she was no longer behind him, but he had no way to check.

Schuldig let his feet carry him forward for two or three minutes before he tried to think about what he’d been told. He wrestled with it for the rest of his walk to where Brad waited and failed to find any angle from which the situation looked better. _I have to have already tried that and that and… If I didn’t think to, Brad would have told me to._

When he saw the house, he wasn’t particularly surprised. It had an expensive, rustic cabin look that he knew Brad favored when he wanted to impress people. Except that the boards were cracked and splintered. The roof sagged. The windows were dirty, as if no one had ever washed them. _He wouldn’t let his home look like that. Not even if he had to do all the work himself. He wouldn’t._ Schuldig narrowed his eyes. _Is it even real? Is any of this real?_

Seeing the house ahead still came as a relief. He was pretty sure it would be warmer inside. _As long as that is where Brad is. //Is this where you are?//_ He gave Brad an image of the house.

_//I'll come out on the porch.//_

Schuldig was certain he hadn't been intended to hear Brad’s following thought-- ‘I'm allowed that far.’

_He sounds so worn._ Schuldig really didn't want to think about that.

Seeing Brad appear on the porch still came as a relief. _Except that he looks at least forty. How the hell long have we been here?_ Schuldig waved to indicate that he was paying attention.

Brad’s smile as Schuldig climbed the sagging steps looked both genuine and hollow. When Schuldig reached the top, Brad hugged him with urgent desperation.

_I wish I could think that was sexual…_ Schuldig hugged back in the hope that that would reassure Brad somehow. “I hope it’s warm in there,” he said out loud. _//We really need to talk about what the hell’s going on.//_

“The tub isn’t large enough, but the water will be hot. That will help.” Brad leaned his head on Schuldig’s shoulder for a moment. _//No. It won’t do any good. We’ve tried and tried and tried. I don’t want to spoil what we’ve got.//_

Knowing that Brad couldn’t see his face, Schuldig allowed his displeasure to show. _She’s right. He’s… He can’t be_ broken _. He’s Brad Crawford. He always sees a way out._ “So we won’t both fit?”

“I don’t fit.” Brad pulled back a bit to study Schuldig’s face.

_I wonder if I look as old as he does._ Schuldig smiled at Brad and tried to decide how obnoxious to be. _Just to show him I don’t see the cracks. Hell. I don’t think he sees that he’s almost in pieces._

“You must be hungry, too.” Brad’s expression almost begged Schuldig to say yes, to cooperate.

“Thirsty more.” Schuldig wasn’t sure he could handle food just yet. _I’m fucking terrified._

“I knew you were coming, but the… time markers aren’t very good here, so I wasn’t sure-- Well.” Brad stepped back and turned to open the door. “I’ve got some beer. It’s not great. No, it’s fine. It’s just not from anywhere either of us have ever been, so it takes getting used to.” He led the way inside.

Schuldig scanned the space through the door before he stepped inside. There were rooms to either side of the entrance. One held a couch that had once been white and a chair that looked for all the world like Brad’s favorite from their apartment in Tokyo. That looked almost new. The rugs on the floor looked brighter, newer in certain areas and-- He blinked. _Are they actually there?_ He couldn’t make the corners of the room come into focus.

There were three book shelves, all less than half full. More than one shelf slanted in a way that indicated that the supports were mostly gone.

Brad led the way in the other direction. That room held a round table with three chairs. One of them looked more real than the others, but the other two were in better condition than the couch in the other room. Brad looked around. “I tried to tidy a bit when I realized you were on your way.” He brushed a hand over the table. “I’m sure I missed some crumbs.” He bared his teeth at the walls. “Crumbs attract… creatures. They’re about the only entertainment I get.”

Schuldig was sure that was a lie, but he didn’t want to look too hard at that. He found himself stepping very carefully, keeping to the parts of the floor where Brad had walked. _I think the things he uses most are in the best condition. I’m pretty sure I won’t go through the floor there._ He was also sure that things sharpened and became more solid when Brad looked at them. _Which means he probably doesn’t notice how bad things are._ He allowed himself a frown when Brad wasn’t looking in his direction. _This is a lot more like a dreamscape, but I’m not actually in his head. Nevertheless, his mind’s what matters, isn’t it?_

The kitchen was larger and looked more real than anything they’d passed yet. That surprised Schuldig because he hadn’t thought that Brad paid that much attention to food and its preparation. No member of Schwarz had. There were several dozen cookbooks, and the counters held a plethora of devices that Schuldig wouldn’t have had the slightest idea what to do with. The microwave, the stand mixer, and the blender were about as far as his knowledge went.

Brad laughed. It only sounded a little forced. “I have a TV, but it only gets cooking shows. I got bored, and… It kind of took over.”

Schuldig smiled. “If it means I get a good meal, I’m happy to go with it.” He kept the words light and cheerful. _And, if Brad buys that, I’ll know things are really, really bad._

Brad opened the refrigerator and pulled out two corked bottles. “These aren’t exactly beer, but they’re close enough.” He set the bottles on the counter and rummaged for a corkscrew. “None of the ingredients I get are quite… Well, it makes the whole thing actually challenging.” His smile was a little too bright. “You can bring a chair in if you want.” He handed Schuldig a bottle and took a swig from his own.

Schuldig wasn’t certain he’d even call the beverage ‘beer.’ It tasted a lot like someone had used nutmeg instead of hops. He wasn’t sure how that would even work, but it was there, and it was definitely alcoholic.

He really hoped that getting plastered would work here. He expected to need it. He emptied half the bottle before he said, “Where are we? I'm pretty sure we don't get a sky that color anywhere I've ever thought about visiting.” _Not to mention the plants and the things that woman said._

Schuldig had to hide a frown as he realized that, while he could remember what the woman had said, remembering her existence took effort. _Like it's too slippery to hold. But I'm master of my own mind._ He created mental hooks then threaded what he knew of the woman through a dozen different fundamental parts of his psyche.

_She loves Brad._ He was more than a little afraid that, when he looked in Brad's mind, he'd find that Brad loved her, too. He didn't quite want to look at why that mattered so much.

Brad didn't answer for almost a minute. Instead, he took several swallows of the beverage Schuldig was never going to call beer. Brad sighed. “I don't suppose you'd take my word that it doesn't matter?” He studied Schuldig’s face.

_I'm not supposed to see the desperation, am I?_ Schuldig raised his bottle to hide his unhappiness.

“We can't change it,” Brad said. “We can't fight it.” He turned his back to Schuldig. “I'm sorry. I never saw any of this. I'd have…” He waved the hand that held the bottle. “I'd have done anything.”

_She was right. It's not just decay around the edges. His mind’s going to shut down completely soon._ Schuldig forced a smile. He was pretty sure that Brad wouldn’t notice the strain around the edges of it. _That he doesn’t_ want _to notice._ “Okay.” _I’ll just have to find my way in. He’s not going to let me in, and I’ll shatter him if I force it. Therefore… Well, I was going to do that anyway._

Schuldig couldn’t recall having successfully wormed his way into Brad’s mind before. At first, he’d tried constantly and been continually frustrated. Later, he and Brad came to trust each other enough that Schuldig waited for Brad to let him in and that Brad usually did.

Schuldig lifted one of his feet so that he could inspect the sole. “At the very least, I need to wash these. Would shoes have been too much to ask?” He caught Brad’s flinch out of the corner of his eye. He turned his face toward Brad. “You look as tired as I feel.”

Brad shrugged. “Time’s a little weird.” He rubbed his face. “Sometimes, the sun doesn’t go down. Sometimes, it doesn’t come up. Either way, it throws me off.”

Schuldig brushed feather light tendrils of his psyche against Brad’s.

Brad put down his bottle and opened the refrigerator again. “I’ve got sausages I could fry up. If you’ve changed your mind about food, that is.” He met Schuldig’s eyes for a moment. “I think I’ve almost got the spices right, almost tasting like something… we’d have eaten.”

_He didn’t notice._ That made things both easier and more urgent. Schuldig closed his eyes for a moment. “I might be able to eat.” After the ‘beer,’ Schuldig was beyond wary of what Brad might feed him, but he also guessed that Brad was doing his best with utterly alien ingredients.

While Brad cooked, Schuldig kept just enough attention on what Brad was saying to be able to respond appropriately. Everything else went toward finding his way through Brad’s shields. Given the state of everything else, he was surprised that those shields were as effective as they were. _I think I need Ariadne in order to get in. Or was that just for Theseus to get back out?_ It wasn’t so much that Brad’s shields were impenetrable as that Schuldig kept finding his way blocked by fragments of trivial memories that grew and warped to try to suck him in when he got close.

It wasn’t until he was helping Brad with the dishes that Schuldig realized that he hadn’t seen himself in a single one of those memories.

The stairs looked terrible but felt as solid as the kitchen had. _At least I’m not going to fall through a hole in his mind if I go looking for the toilet._ He’d been more than a little afraid that he’d have to venture outside every time he needed to piss. _Those plants are really fucking creepy. They probably bite._

The bathtub really was too small for true comfort, especially given what they’d had in Japan. Schuldig decided he wasn’t going to look at that part of his memory too hard. _No point wanting what’s not here. At least, I’ve got Brad._ Looking at himself in the small mirror that Brad probably used for shaving, he concluded that his face hadn’t changed as much as Brad’s had. He spent a little time inspecting his body but stopped when he realized that his scars were gone. 

_Is this even my body?_ It looked mostly right. _It feels right. Would I know?_

He made himself focus instead on being displeased by the selection of toiletries. “As conservative as ever, Brad.” He was pretty sure Brad was close enough to hear him, but he wasn’t surprised that his lover didn’t respond. “Would it hurt to have something that doesn’t smell like it belongs in an Old Spice commercial?”

Schuldig washed thoroughly. He wasn’t sure what had happened to him during the gap in his memories, but it was pretty clearly bad. He knew that washing wouldn’t erase that, but it still made him feel better. He wanted to keep up a conversation with Brad, even after he ran out of things to say about the shampoo, but he couldn’t think of anything safe. _I can’t ask questions. I can’t talk about people we used to know or the weather or politics or, well, anything trivial. Asking how he’s been is beyond stupid given everything._

Schuldig didn’t bother putting his clothing back on, so when he emerged from the bathroom, he went straight to where Brad sat and kissed him. _He looks so fucking lost. How do I fix this?_ Because he couldn’t think of anything else, he started removing Brad’s clothes. 

Brad didn’t try to take control, and Schuldig took that as a seriously bad sign, so he tried to remind Brad of the ways that they knew each other’s bodies, of the ways they took care of each other. Schuldig wouldn’t normally have bothered because he liked a little more struggle between them. _Struggle is proof that we’re both on top of things._ He nuzzled Brad’s throat. _And we’re not._

Brad relaxed against Schuldig and just ran his hands over Schuldig’s torso without making any demands.

Schuldig split his attention. _He won’t notice. That’s how bad it is._ His body would do what it needed to do to keep Brad busy while his mind sought a way through Brad’s shields. By this time, he was certain that those shields were entirely intended for keeping him out, him personally rather than telepaths more generally, so he wasn’t entirely surprised that the layer beneath the trivial memories was filled with things that would make him angry. Takatori Reiji and his golf clubs featured pretty prominently. _Along with every other time Brad let me suffer so that he could get something from it._

If the woman hadn’t warned him, Schuldig probably would have pulled back from those memories and gone off to sulk. _Am I that predictable?_ He knew he was.

The third layer was more or less happy memories of him and Brad. _Or, at least, emotionally neutral ones…_ Schuldig very badly wanted to stay with those, to forget the horrors he was expecting to find. Since he thought those must be coming next, he compartmentalized his mind so that he wouldn’t react physically or emotionally to what he found. _After Brad’s asleep.That will be time enough._

Brad remembered a confrontation between Schwarz and Weiss as the museum collapsed around them. He remembered someone shooting the gun from his hand. He remembered--

_The Tomoe girl started laughing. Her feet weren’t touching the floor any longer, and her eyes looked like spots of flame. She waved a hand, and everyone froze._

_Except Nagi. He rose into the air, pulling Farfarello after him. He looked beyond grim and as if he were fighting desperately not to get sucked back down._

_The world tilted. When it righted itself, Schuldig, Brad, all the members of Weiss, the unconscious Fujimiya girl and… someone else were on the ground in front of someone who was decidedly no longer Tomoe Sakura. The skies behind her burned with literal fire._

Schuldig didn’t want to look at not-Tomoe, so he focused on trying to find out who that other person was. It was tricky because Brad didn’t remember her from then or even from before then. He simply knew she had to have been there.

And she-- _Manx_ \--was the only solid thing Brad had now that wasn’t touched by the demon that had melded with Tomoe. Manx didn’t hate Brad, didn’t want to hurt him, and Tomoe wasn’t going to hurt her. Tomoe couldn’t even see her.

Weiss now lived in a very comfortable prison. _For their own safety._ The twist to that statement in Brad’s thoughts led Schuldig to Brad’s belief that Weiss were pets, very cherished pets but pets nevertheless. Not like Brad and Schuldig. 

Schuldig slipped away from the terror that was trying to choke him by wondering if Kudoh was giving Fujimiya tips on how to keep Tomoe happy. Sexual and romantic manipulation were well outside of Fujimiya’s skill set. _Not that Kudoh’s nearly as good as he thinks he is._

Brad watched Weiss when he could. Schuldig could see that it had started with Brad trying to gather information, searching for the one detail that would let him foresee a way out. Nothing had come of that, but Brad kept watching because, when he was watching Weiss, he had some distraction from what was happening to Schuldig. He never lost track of it completely, not even when he was… with… Manx, but it was a bit of anesthetic, dulling the pain just enough to be perceptible. 

Tomoe hated them both, so the demon-Tomoe hybrid tortured Schuldig. Over and over and over. She made Brad watch because he’d watched everything Schuldig had done to her. 

_Which is a level of understanding of Brad’s psyche that-- Well, Tomoe shouldn’t have had that._ Didn’t _have that. I would have noticed._ Even with the blocks he’d put into place to keep himself from reacting physically, Schuldig tasted acid strongly enough to make him cough. 

Fortunately, Brad didn’t notice. 

Schuldig stopped for several minutes to focus on kissing Brad before he made himself look at the horrors again. _And, every time I get boring, she wipes my mind and heals my body and sends me to Brad._ He avoided looking at the details of what he’d endured and been made to forget by grabbing onto Brad’s understanding of the cruelty of allowing these occasional reunions. _Which is something else she shouldn’t have understood._

_I will forget all of that again. That… might help. If he-- If she’d kept us apart, he’d have managed to forget the connection between the person being tortured and the man he loved-- loves._ There was so very much of it, and if Schuldig hadn’t disconnected that part of his mind from his body, he’d probably have broken down completely enough to wake Brad. _And then Brad would know. Brad can’t know._ He gave himself a moment to look at the ceiling and just let his mind go blank. _I never could hide anything from him anyway. He’ll know. Just… After I’m done._

Brad didn’t know how many years it had been. He aged a little then got younger again when the Tomoe-demon noticed which wasn’t often. Manx aged very, very slowly but steadily. Brad was terrified of what would happen when Manx got really old. _Then he’ll really be alone._

No one else aged. 

While Brad slept, Schuldig stayed awake and carefully siphoned off the details and emotional trauma of some of the worst memories. He tried to leave the information without the pain and guilt, without the blood and screams. He had some idea of what Brad actually needed to be able to generate and understand his visions, and he tried to balance that with his desire to salvage as much of Brad’s mind as he could. 

_Patches and spackle as long as this keeps happening. And it will. Unless I-- It’s selfish, but I can’t. I_ could _make him not care, but… I can’t. Knowing that I’ll see him again and that he’ll care will help, just a little._ He pushed his awareness of what was in his personal and fairly immediate future as far away from his conscious thoughts as he could and walled it away. _Brad’s right about that much. Knowing isn’t going to do me a bit of good._

Schuldig spent all of his energy on the work because he was quite sure that Brad wouldn’t give him a second chance if he left anything incomplete. _And, even if-- when-- he guesses what I did, he’ll let me sleep myself out._

When Schuldig woke, Brad was propped up on a pillow and staring down at Schuldig’s face. Schuldig blinked three times and yawned to buy himself time. _The walls and ceilings look more definitely there now. There’s that._

Brad brushed his fingers along Schuldig’s cheek. _//You shouldn’t have.//_

Schuldig reached up and tugged Brad down for a kiss. _//I had to.//_ He hesitated then framed it as something selfish. _//Remembering you broken won’t help me any.//_

Brad’s expression as he pulled back told Schuldig that his lover understood. _//Nothing much does help.//_ He looked away for several seconds. _//I’m sorry. I should have known this might happen.//_

Schuldig very badly wanted to be able to blame someone. _But, if I blame him, it will destroy him. Therefore--_

_//Someone talked to me on the way here. I think… Has she ever been here while I am?//_ He couldn’t quite bring himself to name her. He remembered her more clearly now, but naming her was too close to acknowledging the memories he’d seen of her and Brad in this very bed. _And she must have been here with me, once at least. Putting a bullet in me would mean being close. Unless… Brad doesn’t remember it happening, her telling him, yes, but not it happening. She didn’t warn him before she did it._

Brad closed his eyes and shuddered almost imperceptibly. “I’m sorry--” It was a whisper almost too faint to hear. 

_//Don’t, Brad. That thing can’t hear our thoughts. Don’t speak.//_ Part of Schuldig wanted to scream at this confirmation that the ghost woman mattered to Brad. He’d known, but he’d still hoped he was wrong. _If he was using her… That would be all right. But if he was, he wouldn’t sound so guilty._ He squashed a powerful desire to gut his rival. _She didn’t think she was my rival._ He pulled that thought in close. 

Brad sat upright. “I should make breakfast.” 

“Is there coffee?” Schuldig let his voice sound wistful. He was pretty sure that there wouldn’t be. There might be some other stimulant that Brad called coffee, but it wouldn’t be that. Not properly. He stretched and wasn’t surprised to feel his back pop. “This bed is kind of terrible.” 

He reached up to brush fingers along Brad’s arm. He hoped that Brad would understand it as forgiveness, as permission to do what he had to do. _//I don’t think that you talking with her and you talking with me combines to equal all three of us together.//_ He was by no means convinced that they could come up with an answer, but of the three of them, he was the least beaten down, the most able to reach for optimism. _//It seems to be something we haven’t tried, and-- Your power can’t see her any better than mine can, can it?//_

Brad swung his feet to the floor. “Not really." 

Schuldig smiled to let Brad know that he understood that as the answer to both of his questions. _//Maybe, together, all three of us, we can change that. I think you need to actually_ see _her in order to find the solution.//_ He made his mental voice as cheerfully optimistic as he could manage without going over the top. Brad still might not buy it, but Schuldig was certainly going to make the effort. _Who knows? Maybe I’m right._

Then, while Brad headed for the bathroom, Schuldig poked around the room, searching for clean clothing and comforting himself with the knowledge that, if it didn’t work, he would forget that the woman existed at all. _I won’t be jealous then._ It was thin reassurance. _If we all get out, I’ll-- Yeah. I have no fucking idea. Brad won’t like it if I kill her._

He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. _When we get out, I’ll be the only one who doesn’t remember. Well, me and the Fujimiya girl. Why isn’t she awake? Her brother would be ecstatic._ He couldn’t imagine that it was beyond the demon’s ability, not if the demon could resurrect people. _Maybe there’s something to that. Did we ever look at it?_

_//Brad, a question--//_ Schuldig wasn’t prepared to stop trying. 


End file.
